"The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough." ~ Rabindranath Tagore

Binu Jose Philip's heart-warming travelogue was among the 5 short-listed travelogues that contended for the winning prize.The writer has tried to share what was essentially a spiritual experience and has transparently expressed feelings and emotions, transforming a chance stopover into a complete and fulfilling experience.

When we went to Bhubaneshwar, there was nothing much mentioned about
this place - Dhavalagiri. Everything was the world-renowned glory of
Konark and its architectural marvels, a must see. Dhavalagiri was to
be a stopover on the way to the grand destination of Konark. About an
hours journey from Bhubaneshwar you can see the unassuming, quiet and
unadorned place: a shrine, a temple on top of a hill, or call it a
mini-mountain.

The car went till the steps of the temple premises, from where there is a climb to the top. The glimpses of the place from the car
hadn't inspired any great expectations. I thought, here is another
temple, another place for devotees to come and unload themselves.

Even before I took my first step into the garden before the
temple what struck me was the stillness and the silence. It was
as if everything and everyone there were in the presence of something so sacred, so
holy, that any noise or movement would be sacrilegious. The garden had
some stone tablets with inscriptions on them, attempts of people to
immortalize themselves.

I didn't pay it much attention, looking instead at the temple before me, standing on an elevated platform some 25 feet
high. It is made of white stone, circular with a very broad dome at
the top. Facing the four directions are four Buddha statues - the ones
in which he seems so serene and all knowing in his enlightenment. On
the dome were Buddhist style umbrellas, those flat affairs that look so
alien. You have to take off your footwear before you climb more steps
that take you through the portal to the heart of Dhavalagiri.

As I climbed up, I seemed to be invading the privacy of something unknown,
which humbled me with its serene majesty. It was the silence, the all-pervasive stillness, which was almost a force now, that surrounded me on all sides. It forced its way inside me. I didn't feel violated, it was a recognition of something greater than self. Bowing down
before it wasn't a duty, it was an honour.

The walkway around the central structure was not wide. It overlooked a stretch of countryside that could tempt a saint. I gazed over the walls at the picturesque landscape. A delicate cloud of mist hugged the horizon. It spread around us, keeping away from the temple, seemingly having come to pay obeisance. It was almost ethereal, so I could visualize fairies swirling their way through the mist. Below was the wavy blue thread of a river stretching over the landscape. The water seemed to be lazing its way to an
unknown destination it had chosen for itself. There were some cattle taking a dip in the river. It looked like a fairy tale setting, their lazy movements seemingly saying that time is not a problem for the truly free.

The trees seemed to be so much in charge that the slight wind that was caressing its way across the plains avoided them. The wind brought with it smells of the unknown,
tempting me with mysteries untold. The sunlight glinted on the leaves
and the river. It was a sight that could tempt the
coldest of hearts into beating again. The wet misty smell of the river, the freshness of the
day, the hint of the smell of flowers, the smell of dew strung grass -
all of it was part of the wind. The toughest of men couldn't
have but stopped to see what nature had wrought for them.

The temple where I stood was as much a part of this as anything else. I could see
some people far below going through their daily chores. How blessed
were they to be part of this dreamscape. The wind seemed to whisper a
message of peace. My heart was full, it was calm and content and a bit
overwhelmed. I could have stood forever and merged into the show of
grandeur. I walked around a bit. There were four stone lions guarding
over the terrain from their perches on the walls of the shrine, masterful in features and unrelenting in duty.

I sat down beside one of them, gazing as the panorama unfolded before
me. The feeling that all this was mine stole over me. Nature and the
subtlety and the awesomeness of it, along with the beauty and
the delicacy of it all - just for me, so I would want to be one with it. I
wanted to loose my identity in that beauty. What better fate than to
be part of a greater something. I understood how Alexander would have
felt looking at the conquered kingdoms, how the astronauts would have
felt when they saw this globe - how every explorer must have felt when
they looked back from where they reached. Mine was a smaller vision,
but no less noble.

The sun shone with a sense of gaiety and seemed to tell me there is
more. I looked up and saw the clouds. Like little sheep they were
gambolling their way across the sky. Jostling each other, pushing
themselves this way and that, and suddenly rushing away with a
purpose. Insubstantial puffs of vapour that they were, at that
moment they were very much alive. Soaring in between them, touching the sky,
were some eagles declaring their freedom, singing the song of the
truly free. My mind was with them, looking down at this sight - I
could even see myself, a minuscule being in the midst of beauty,
nonetheless able to realize a gift when the gods give it. But as
things do, this also came to an end. The trance was broken, but the
memories were left, no one could claim them, no one can change
them. It is still here, in my heart, a warm memory when I need it.